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CiJEXRlGHT OEFOSm 



POEMS 



BY 



CHARLES L. FRAZER 



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SUN PRINTING AND PUBLISHING HOUSE 

SAN BERNARDINO, CALIFORNIA 

1922 






COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY 

CHARLES L. FRAZER 

PUBLISHED, NOVEMBER. 1922 



• • 



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CONTENTS 



Page 

My Mother 15 

For God and Country 16 

The Flag 1-^ 

Swing Ye Low ^^ 

The Speckled Trout 21 

Autumn Rain 23 

Voices of Nature 25 

The Mocking Bird -- 26 

The Manger Cradle 27 

Evening in Oalifornia 28 

Alone 29 

The Lily and the Rose 30 

Beyond the Clouds 31 

Mother-Love 32 

The Unfathomable 33 

When? 35 

Dawn In The Foothills 36 

Voiceless Yet Speak,fng 37 

Two Pictures 38 

By The Sea 39 

Babyland ^^ 

"Neddie" ^3 

Anchors ^^ 

Simplicity ^-^ 



Back Yonder 47 

The Choice 50 

Conquest 51 

I Like It First Rate 52 

Who Is My Friend? 55 

The Sherman 56 

EI Caney , 58 

Command 61 

Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow 62 

Drifting and Battling 63 

In Dreams 64 

The Creation of Man 66 

A Wiayside Flower 67 

The Sunshine Way 68 

The Norther 69 

In His Rememihrance 71 

Forget It, Forget It Not 72 

The Call Of The Hills 73 

The Song In The Heart 74 

Days Of June 76 

Love Supreme 77 

In Sunshine and Storm 7S 

The Baby 81 

Autumn Back Thar' and Here 82 

Talk Sunshine 85 

All For Columbia 86 

The Old Swimming Bole 88 

The Glory of Winter 90 

My Ships at Sea 93 



Off Guard 96 

Just Today 97 

Towser's Lament 9^ 

Patching The Highways 99 

That World-wide Peace 101 

The Brook And The Boy 103 

The M'onths 105-111 

Easter Morn 112 

The Blue And The Grey 113 

A Prayer 115 

Caroline 116-119 

The Pacific 120 

A Life Petition 122 



FOREWORD 

These writings of my leisure moments have 
been assembled in this little booklet because 
of the oft expressed wish of friends and rela- 
tives that 1 would — as one well-known Cali- 
fornia writer puts it — "gather them together 
under one roof." When, recently, such a 
suggestion came as the wish of a beloved 
niece, the late Josephine Frazer Tabor, of 
Hollywood, I accepted the fulfillment as a 
sacred trust. It is, therefore, with a com- 
bined sense of duty and pleasure I am having 
published this little volume of Random 
Rhymes. 

In the absence of dates I have, with few 
exceptions, arranged the poems as nearly as 
possible from memory, in chronological order, 
They cover a period from 1898, to 1922. 

If, because of the ties of kinship, or long- 
time friendships they are valued, I am con- 
tent; I am more than repaid. 

THE AUTHOR. 



In memory of my dear Mother, to whose 
love and self-sacrificing devotion we, her 
children, are deeply indebted for all that we 
have and are. 

No burden was too heavy, no sacrifice too 
great if, thereby, our mental, moral and 
physical welfare was advanced. 

Gentle in spirit, even in temperament, 
forgiving and trusting, faithful unto the end — 
this was our Mother. 

With fond recollections of her abiding 
faith in, and great love for us, this little 
volume is affectionately inscribed by her son. 

CHARLES L. FRAZER. 



MY MOTHER 15 



MY MOTHER 

My Mother is waiting for me, somewhere, 
While the seasons are threading with silver 
my hair; 

She will wait I know, for she told me so 
Away back there in the long-ago. 

Yes, she's waiting for me at some trysting 

place 
That God has prepared in His wondrous 

grace ; 
Though the years come and go like the river's 

flow 
She is keeping her vigil some place, I know. 

And back through the years — I can see her 
now. 
With the etching of time on her furrowed 
brow; 
With her snowy hair, and her face so fair. 
My Mother is waiting for me somewhere. 



THE FLAG 17 




THE FLAG 

(Read by Judge Rex B. Goodcell at the 
dedication of Camp Cajon July 4, 1919, and 
by William M. Bristol at the dedication of Live 
Oak Park by the Chamber of Commerce of 
northern San Diego County, July 17, 1920.) 

Hats off, ye men! Now lift the flag on high: 
Break out its folds and let them proudly fly 

As from its staff on this our natal day 

There floats the banner none may take away. 

It*s streaming lines, it's starry field of blue 
Are caught by winds that long have known 
them true: 

And rising, falling, with exquisite grace, 
They kiss each other in a fond embrace. 



18 THE FLAG 

Flag of our own, we give thee to the breeze: 
Thrice hail on land, thrice hail on bounding 
seas: 

On armored deck, o'er valley, peak and crag. 
Wave on, and on, our own beloved flag! 

•SP V ^ V 

Thrice-hallowed flag, one moment thou shalt 
be 
Half-masted for those Sons of Liberty 
Who, over seas or on the swelling flood 
Have re-baptized thee with a nation's 
blood. 

Our hero dead! No matter how they fell. 
In camp, at sea> on crimson fields of hell; 

They gave their all our pledged faith to keep, 
Tis ours to pay them homage as they sleep. 

Peace to their ashes; let us write each name 
In fadeless glory on the roll of fame: 

And unborn freemen shall their valor tell — 
Soldier, and sailor, fare, O fare thee well! 



Flag of the free, beloved on land and main. 
May treason never thy escutcheon stain; 

Defeat — the battle lost — were better far 
Than that dishonor dim one single star. 



THE FLAG 19 

Aye, better that thy stars forever set; 
And God, and men» and angles thee forget. 
Than that thy name should ever used be 
To bind one shackle on humanity. 

But thou, O flag, shalt not thine honor yield! 

Not by one thread, or star upon thy shield I 
Through calm and storm undaunted shalt 
thou ride. 

And all thy deathless principles abide. 

O, Thou Who boldest in Thy guilding hand 

' The veiled future of this mighty land. 
Keep Thou our flag, and may it ever be 
Triumphant in the cause of liberty! 

Then fly, proud flag, from thine exalted 
place; 
Shine on. ye stars, by God's eternal grace! 
With faith undimmed we dedicate anew 

Ourselves to thee — the Red, the White, the 
Blue. 




20 SWING YE LOW 

SWING YE LOW 

Swing ye low, ye weeping clouds» 
Roll ye up against the hills; 

Drench the earth with flowing tears 
Till ye land with new life thrills. 

Till the streams are running o*er 
With ye flood-tide of ye gift. 

Ere ye azure blue of heaven 

Shall break through ye widening rift. 

Till ye everlasting rocks 

Fashioned in ye nature's mold 

Shall come thundering down ye streams 
As ye did in days of old 

Ere ye north wind taught deceit — 
Taught dissembling, and a lie. 

Till ye land was parched and brown 
'Neath ye cloudless, cruel shy. 

Swing ye low, then, weeping clouds I 
Pour ye out ye pent-up tears; 

Fill ye land with joy and hope! 
Banish doubting, banish fears! 



THE SPECKLiE'D TROUT 21 

THE SPECKLED TROUT 

Where high Sierra rears its wooded crest 

Wooing the mists that come from o'er the 
sea 
Damp with the coolness from the ocean's 
breast, 
And ladened with the fragrance of the lea, 

Where stately pines lift high their lofty heads 

In proud defiance of the wintery blast. 
Where tangled ferns make soft and fragrant 
beds 
For brown-eyed deer when ice and snow are 
past. 

Where silence reigns, save the laughing song 
Of the tumbling brook as it winds about. 

Where shadows are deepest all day long 
O, this is the home of the speckled trout I 

Far from the haunts of designing foes, 

A stranger to whir of the rod and reel, 

Little cares he for the wind that blows. 

Nor knows' nor fears the sportsman's 
barbed steel. 

Beware! blithe beauty of the mountain stream. 
Thy kinsmen oft their wise resolves forsook, 



22 THE SPECKLED TROUT 

And found — too late — the gad-fly's flashing 
gleam 
But ill'concealed the sportsman's barbed 
hook. 

E'en now he comes with stealthy, wolf-like 
tread. 
Threading his way through tangled grass, 
and dank. 
He casts upon the stream his silken thread — 
A flash! the troutlet lies upon the bank. 

*P fp rp Ip 

O, cruel fate, to wrest thee from thy moun- 
tain home 
To grace the basket of a heartless sport I 
Thy gleaming sides, reflecting silvery foam. 
Would shame the jewels of an empress' 
court. 



THE AUTUMN RAIN 23 

AUTUMN RAIN 

An ashy haze o'erspreads the western sea; 

The mountain veils in gathering mist its 
crest; 
All nature smiles benign, expectantly, 

The day falls quickly into night and rest. 

Far out to sea the rising billows leap 
In swift obedience to an Unseen Hand, 

Huge waves roll inward from the mighty deep 
And break with thunders on the yellow sand. 

Along the hills a narrow cloud steals in 
As if by stealth the tow' ring peaks to gain; 

The rising winds their monotones begin. 

They are the vanguards of the autumn rain. 

The gathering night draws close her manic 
grey, 
Darkness, supreme, rules with her sombre 
hue; 
Departing summer softly steals away 

And to the south-land bids a fond adieu. 

The drifting haze has changed to ranks of 
cloud; 
Swifty they come overcasting earth and sky; 



24 



THE AUTUMN RAIN 



The east wind greets them as of conquest 
proud, 
Bright rainless summer now, alas, good bye! 

We love thy warmth, we love thy cloudless 
skies 

Bringing to earth a wealth of golden grain, 
But nature from an empty store-house cries 

"All hail, all hail the glorious autumn rain!" 



VOICES OF NATUiRE 



25 



VOICES OF NATURE 

The bursting bud with petals white 

That casts its frgrance on the night. 
The clouds that fleck the evening skies, 
The love that looks from Mother's eyes, 
The thistle down, the droning bee. 

The wonders of the earth and sea, 
The moon, the stars, the glorious sun 
Whose cycles through the ages run. 
But speak the glories of His name 

Who forged the world in nature's flame. 




26 THE MOCKING BIRD 

THE MOCKING BIRD 

(The California mocker sings all night) 

When sets the sun and day is o'er, 
And twilight deepens in the west, 

When shadows creep among the trees 
And mating birds have gone to rest. 

When purple clothes the distant hills 
In softening lines of gathering night. 

Forth from his nook in shadows deep 
The mock-bird comes with w^ild delight. 

A lonely tree, a topmost bough, 
A bending twig by breezes swung, 

A rostrum high — secure retreat — 
A medley on the night-winds flung. 

A crooning sw^eet, a note of joy, 
A cry like the wail of the lost, 

A love-song, a whistle defiant. 

On the wings of the night-wind tossed. 

No prowling foe may here molest 

Thy reverberant notes, or thee af right; 
Thy Heaven-born song is music sweet. 

Brown songster of the lonely night. 

* * * 

Through the long hours, the world asleep. 

Echoes his tireless roundelay, 
Till sunlight gilds the distant peaks 

Calling the world to greet the day. 



THE MANGER CRADLE 27 

THE MANGER CRADLE 

Cradled in a lowly manger 

Under blue Judean skies, 
On a world of sin and sorrow 

Opened first our Savior's eyes. 

Opened on a life of service 

For a ruined world — and sinning. 

He, the Babe of Bethlehem, 

Saw the end from the beginning: 

Saw the cold world stern, relentless. 
Trample on His great heart-yearning. 

Heard His trusted friend deny Him, 
Friendship for The Saviour spurning. 

Sav/ the cruel cross of Calvary 

On Golgotha's clouded rim. 
Felt the spear-trust and the anguish 

That shall draw all men to Him. 




28 EVENING IN OALIFORNIA 

EVENING IN CALIFORNIA 

The shadows lengthen; 

The breezes cease to blow 
From off the restless sea 

Whose waves are never stilled. 
A hush, the hush of evening. 

Falls on the brown earth, 
And dusk puts out the light 

With which the world was filled. 

From the still forests. 

The canyons choked with vines. 
Comes a refreshing breath 

The gift of kindly night; 
The great moon sweeps majestic. 

Queen of the evening sky. 
Flooding the hills 

With soft and mellow light. 

Now pass the stars- 
God's jewels of the heavens — 

In swift procession 

From the Orient sky; 

And the tired earth is sleeping. 
Wrapped in sweet dreams 

Within the hollow of His hand, 
Neath His all-watchful eye. 



ALONE 29 

ALONE 

Alone I tread life's devious way, 

Alone I journey day by day; 
Though she whose hand I hold in mine. 

Whose life doth with my own entwine 
Walks by my side. 

Alone, though foes may taunt and jeer. 

Alone, though friends are ever near; 
I am as far removed, I ween. 

As though the ocean rolled between. 
With restless tide. 

They grasp my hand, they speak to me. 

My inner self they may not see. 
Nor know the things I think and feel: 

Except as I myself reveal 
I am alone. 




30 THE LILY AND THE ROSE 

THE LILY AND THE ROSE 

Said the Jacqueminot to the lily bulb 

I see no beauty of form or face, 
No flush of morn, no evening glow 

In your withered body, devoid of grace; 
I wonder why you linger so? 

Quoth the bulb, dear Jack, alas, tis true 
The deepest dyes were given to you 

In crimson velvet gowned; 

But hidden deep in my inmost heart 

Is a germ of life that will quickly start 
When April warmth is found. 

And bear aloft on swaying spike 

A dew-kissed snowy cup. 
There's room, if we like, for you and for me, 

And the world may pass, and the world 
may see, 

IF WE LOOK UP. 




BEYOND THE CLOUDS 31 

BEYOND THE CLOUDS 

Somewhere upon the great highway 

Will surely dawn a tragic day 
When blotted seems the fairest page. 

And life earns only bitter wage. 

Perhaps Dame Fortune — fickle one, 

Has smiled upon a rising sun» 
Then vanished while the hours were bright 

And turned the day to stygian night. 

Perhaps a loyal, trusted friend ^ ' 
Who should be faithful to the end. 

Has faltered in a crucial hour 

And trampled friendship's fairest flower. 

Mayhap the horseman from that shore 
From whence return is nevermore. 

Paused at the door in mad career 

And froze the heart with nameless fear. 

Ol sweet to know the bruised reed 

May rise when from its chastening freed; 

Beyond the clouds, the storm, the pall. 
The sun still shines high over all. 



32 MOTHER-DOVE 

MOTHER-LOVE 

Can thought conceive, or tongue proclaim 
Save one, a holier, sweeter name? 

Can angels know in Heaven above 
A truer, a diviner love? 

Is there a friend so faithful, true. 
Or so unselfish, known to you, 

Who follows though your pathway lead 
To prison doors through power of greed? 

Can pomp and power, and golden years. 
Outweigh a mother's anguish-tears? 

Can slander, with its poison dart 
Stifle the longings of her heart? 

Ah no! as well with puny hand 

Turn back the rising tide with sand» 

No bonds can Mother-Love confine. 
So deep, so boundless, so Divine. 



ia^ s»e 



THE UNFATHOMABLE 33 

THE UNFATHOMABLE 

Can you harness the steeds of the storm-tossed 
sea 

Or number the sands on its shores. 
Can you tell how the flowers bloom on the lea, 

Do you know how the eaglet soars? 

Knowest thou from whence the auroral glow. 

Or the pole-star's mystic power. 
Can you weigh in a balance the river's flow. 

Or the dew on a bending flower? 

Can you measure the depth of a mother's love. 
Can you fathom the human will. 

Can you paint the wind-blown clouds above 
Can you say to the storm, "Be still-" 

Can you soothe the anguish of tears unwept, 
Can you weave the threads of a life. 

Can you mend a promise of love unkept. 
Or unravel the tangle of strife? 

Can you number the stars in night's diadem 
As they pass in silent review. 



34 



THE UNFATHOMABLE 



Can you fathom the light of the nearest gem 
That glows in her crown of blue? 



* * 



* 



* 



O, finite mind thou hast a wide domain 

Where thou mayest soar, or be an earthy 
clod! 
But thou are barred as by a mighty chain 
From knowledge in the boundless sphere of 
God. 




WHEN? 35 

WHEN? 

When will you speak encouragement 
To one with heavy burdens bent? 

Tomorrow. 

When will you pay fond memory's debt. 
And fancied slights and wrongs forget? 

Tomorrow. 

V/hen will you do the kindly deed, 
A stranger did you in your need? 

Tomorrow. 

When will you say the kindly word 
The dead while living should have heard? 

Tomorrow. 

When will you strive the right to do. 
And evil words and wrong eschew? 

Tomorrow. 

Tomorrow? Aye, and so alway, 
And when it comes it is today, 

Tomorrow. 



36 DAWN IN THE FOOTHILLS 

DAWN IN THE FOOTHILLS 

Low o'er the valley a phantom is lifting 

Arms to the sea and its great parent-heart; 

Wraith of the night ever changeful and drifting, 
Derelict, homeless, no anchor no chart. 

O'er the glad hills the grey light is stealing. 
Conquering the night and dispelling the mist; 

Out o'er the plains the bird-notes are pealing. 
Sparkling the fields, and the blossoms, 
dew-kissed. 

Radient the sky with the dawn of his coming; 
Fir-crowned, the peaks are aglow with the 
morn; 
Through the grey sage the wild bees are hum- 
ming* 
The world is awaking — a new day is bom. 




VOICELESS YET SPEAKING 



37 



VOICELESS YET SPEAKING 

The whispering grass, each vibrant leaf. 
The ripened grain, the bursting sheaf, 

Are calling: "Look above.'* 

The distant hills, the constant sea 
Are voices that do speak to me 

Of God's unchanging love. 



38 TWO PICTURES 

TWO PICTURES 

In my little cottage bed-room 

Hanging, Oh, these many years! 
Is a picture old and faded 

And I scarce can hide the tears 
As I look upon that canvas, 

Marred by time's relentless flow, 
For that warm heart was my castle 

In the kingdom of By Lo. 

She it was who, uncomplaining. 
Bore my load of grief and care, 
Suaged my sorrows, kissed my bruises 
When my feet were brown and bare; 

Kept my wayward steps from straying 
Into stony paths, and steep, 

Taught my infant lips to utter 

"Now I lay me down to sleep.'* 

But I have another picture. 

Oh, to me it is so fair! 
Though the cheeks have lost their roses, 

And there's silver in the hair; 
Time can never dim its beauty — 

Such the Master Painter's art — 
It was painted there in By Lo; 

Tis the picture in my heart. 



BY THE SEA 39 

BY THE SEA 

I sat one evening where the lonely sea 
Chafed at its confines restlessly. 

The sun went down in liquid blue. 
Painting the sky with gorgeous hue. 

The breezes moaned thro' sedges damp. 
The man in the watch-tower hung out his 
lamp. 

Flashing its rays far out o*er the wave, 
Some wandering ship from the rocks to save. 

I pondered long while murmurs crept 
From over the cliff where the waters swept 

With a ceaseless cadence that seemed to say, 
What is life but a summer day? 

I asked myself, is there no light 
That flashes thro' my earthly night, 

Warning my bark from rock and shoal. 
Pointing the way to the harbor goal? 

From depths within a still, small voice 
Bade me arise, look up, rejoice; 

And, lo! I read in the evening sky, 
"The Light of the stricken world am I." 



40 BABYLAND 

BABYLAND 

I know a land where sunbeans chase 
The shadows through the dells. 

Whose vales resound to music soft 
As Cashmere's evening bells. 

Its shores extend from north to south, 
From east to ruddy west. 

Its vastness holds within its sway- 
All we love first and best. 

And yet, withal, this vast domain 

Has but a single door 
Whose portal opens once to all, 

Then closes evermore. 

No cares of life, no vain regrets, 

Invade its shadowy shores. 
No faithless friends, no treacherous foes 

Make shipwreck of its stores. 

No broken hearts, no withered leaves 

Of wasted lives are there. 
No broken vows, no cruel thrusts. 

No insults to the fair. 



BABYLAND 41 

The hosts of earth were cradled there 

In innocence and bliss. 
And knew no word but that of love 

And mother's fervent kiss. 

Time swept them o'er the border-land. 

To youth, to middle age, 
Adown the years they hurry on. 

Pauper, and prince, and sage. 

And they would give the wealth of worlds, 

At three score years and ten. 
Could they roll back the wheels of time 

And be a child again. 

How do I know?» how can I tell? 

Sweetheart, tis truth age-old 
That lure of this enchanted land 

Outweighs the lure of gold: 

And men would linger on its shores 

To breathe its fragrant airs. 
And find in sweet forgetfulness 

Surcease of toil and cares. 

Alas, the wheels go on, and on I 
Nor hopes, nor prayers nor tears. 



42 



BABYLAND 



Can aught avail to stay the flight 
Of onward rolling years. 

Too soon your childhood bark will sail 
From those dear shores way; 

Too soon your golden hair will be 
Threaded with silver grey. 

Then you will stand — as I do now — 
With that un-numered band. 

And watch the distant fading shores 
Of rapturous babyland. 




"NEDDIE" 43 

"NEDDIE" 

(Affectionately inscribed to his mother.) 

A sweet child stood by a tideless sea 
That lapped the shores of Eternity 

Softly and low. 
Life held for him unnumbered charms, 
Death no vague, false alarms 

That fright us so. 

An angel beckoned from the Nether Shore, 
The baby slipped with noiseless oar 

Upon the stream; 
And silently his frail bark sped 
Unto the shore, where the baby dead 

In whiteness gleam. 

When life for you is a fading dream. 
And your boat is gliding upon the stream 

That bore him hence. 
He will wait for you, he will hear your oar 
When your bark approaches the other shore 

In penitence. 




44 ANCHORS 

ANCHORS 

Does fortune frown? 

Do friendships prove untrue? 
There is no day so drear 

But sunshine filters through. 

Is there no light 

On my lone pathway cast? 
There is no night so dark 

But morning comes at last. 

Am I adrift — 

No chart — 'midst howling gale? 
There is no sea so broad 

But whitens with a sail. 

Am I astray, 

Almost beyond recall? 
"He counts the ocean's sand; 

He notes the sparrow's fall.** 




SIMPLICITY 45 

SIMPLICITY 

I know not how the daises grow. 
Nor how the winds in summer blow 

With soft caress; 
I only know a wondrous plan 
Has never failed since time began. 

The world to bless. 

I know not how the mirrored sea 
Is lashed to fury in the glee 

Of summer squall ; 
I only know that storm and wind 
Are one with the Eternal Mind, 

High over all. 

I know not how the lightning's spark 
Is flashed through ocean deep and dark 

To distant shores; 
I only know that nature holds 
Within her labyrinthine folds 

Her richest stores. 

I know not how the ray of light 
Is sent to earth through blackest night 

From depths profound; 
I only know the Master said 
"Let there be light," and lol it sped 

The world around. 



46 SIMPLICITY 

I know not how yon distant star 
It held upon its pathway far 

'Mid worlds unknown; 
I only know through countless years 
It sweeps, to music of the spheres. 

Its trackless zone. 

I know not why in love divine 

Was wrought this restless soul of mine 

With dangers fraught; 
I only know God's loving care 
Is o'er His children everywhere. 

I am His thought. 




BACK YONDER 47 

BACK YONDER 

Ah, well do I remember 

In the years long since gone by 
The little school-house 'cross the creek, 

The fringing forest nigh: 
In front the dusty road 

With fennel and sunflowers lined, 
And wooded slopes and shady lanes 

Stretching away behind. 

And just below the little hill, 

(So steep it seemed to me) 
A crystal spring burst from the rock 

Beneath a gnarled tree 
And crept away through tangled grass 

In meadow-lands to play. 
Yielding it's waters glad and free 

In the flowery month of May. 

Sometimes we played at "yard the sheep," 

Or "pom pom pullaway,'* 
Or "one old cat»" with ball and bat. 

And our hearts were young and gay; 
Sometimes we played at "civil war" 



48 BACK YONDER 

With sticks for sword and gun, 
For the land was a seething fire 
In the days of sixty-one. 

Nor could our little band agree 

To march beneath one flag, 
For some hurrahed for Scott and Grant, 

And some for Lee and Bragg; 
But underneath each little coat 

Beat an honest heart, and true; 
Each thought himself a loyal son, 

'Twas the different point of view. 

Inside the little school-house 

On benches made of slats 
Were ranged the "future presidents,** 

And "wives of diplomats'* 
Who, in after years should build. 

Each in his modest way. 
Temples of life and character 

Began in that month of May. 

Oh, there*s never a passing cloud 
But some light shadows cast; 

And never a youthful fancy 

But lives in the hallowed past; 

Each went his way from that portal, 
Hov/ wide are the paths apart — 



BACK YONDER 4U 

And nevermore will they mingle 
Till they meet in the Father's heart. 

Oh where are those friends of my boyhood! 

Elisabeth, Susan, and Frank, 
Charley, and Harve, and Erastus, 

And "Shorty," and "Fatty" and "Hank>" 
Like wind-scattered leaves of the autumn 

They have fallen, or drifted away ; ; 
Not one there remains now to greet me 

In the fields where we one used to play. 

On the farm, in the home, at the counter. 

Wherever is fiercest the fray. 
Loyally waging life's battle 

Are the friends of that glad summer day — 
Save those who have answered the school-bell 

That will ring for us all by and by, 
But there was not a cloud in THAT spring- 
time — 

Just the sun, and the blue of the sky. 

« :» 4i « « 

So, here's to the friends of those May days 
As backward fond memories wing; 

And may no one be absent or tardy 

When the school-bells of Heaven shall ring. 



50 THE CHOICE 

THE CHOICE 

I ask not wisdom for the world's acclaim, 

Nor wealth, nor place exalted, neither 
praise. 

Or that the sunshine gladden all my days. 
Nor that my footsteps lead to paths of fame. 

Nay ! rather would I seek the lowly ways 

Where bloom the flowers of love and con- 
stancy. 
Where 1 may walk, and hand in hand with 
Thee 
Climb surely upward through life's tangled 
maze. 

If ills o'ertake me I would not repine. 

Nor oft complain, nor falter by the way. 

But trust Thy goodness e'en the clouds be grey 
And to Thy keeping all my ways resign. 

Content to follow wheresoe'er Thou lead — 
In sunlit paths or on misfortune's road— 

If happ'ly I may lighten someone's load 
And so reflect Thyself in loving deed. 



CONQUEST 



CONQUEST 



51 



Out of the winter's frost and gloom 

Come flowers of spring with bud and bloom, 

Come velvet sward and rounded leaf, 
Comes harvest with its golden sheaf 

And clover with its sweet perfume. 

Out of our sorrows and our fears. 
Out of our anguish and our tears. 

Comes conquest over worldly strife. 

Come radiant hope and chastened life 

To light some soul adown the years. 



52 "I LIKE IT FIRST RATE" 

"I LIKE IT FIRST RATE" 

(Last week the mercury registered 46 de- 
grees below zero in New York. Floods swept 
the valleys of the middle west, and a cyclone 
wiped out villages and homes in Alabama.) 

How glorious to live in these ideal days, 
Where the cold doesn't kill, and the sun 

doesn't blaze; 
Where the wind doesn't rotate with death- 
dealing spite. 
Uprooting the forest, turning day into night. 
Oh, yes, I'm content at the nation's west gate 
To bask in the sunshine — I like it first rate. 

I have no desire to make tracks in the snow; 
I was an apprentice at that long ago. 
I've frozen my back and blistered my face. 
And thought I was warm by the old fireplace. 
I've lugged in the wood and thought it was 

great, 
But here I'm content! — I like it first rate. 

I've heard the wild shriek of the pitiless blast. 
As it swept the bleak fields, deep with snow 

overcast ; 
Heard it rattle the windows and howl with 
delight 



"I LIKE IT FIRST RATE" 53 

As it searched out the homeless that bitter 

cold night. 
Ah yes! ye who like of its beauties may prate; 
Out here I'm content — I like it first rate. 

And the glorious springtime with bottomless 

mud, 
When 'The Beautiful" melted, and then came 

the flood; 
When it froze up at night and thawed out 

by day. 
When fields were awash and homes swept 

away. 
I thought it was jolly and quite up to date; 
But here Tm contented — I like it first rate. 

I've seen the great clouds roll up in the west. 
Those death-dealing funnels from Satan's own 

chest; 
I've sought the old cellar, and held down the 

dooi — 
That old cyclone cellar — I need it no more. 
It makes me feel creepy when this I relate. 
But now I'm content — I like it first rate. 

And then came the summer with moisture and 

sun. 
When the mercury staid up o' nights just for 

fun; 



54 



'I LIKE IT FIRST RATE" 



When collars were wilting and clothes sticking 

fast ; 
When moments of comfort were dreams of 

the past. 
Those "dog days" in August — oh, say I they 

were great; 
But here I'm content — and I like it first rate. 

Here June and December go by hand in hand, 
With a garland of blossoms from every fair 

land; 
While mountain and valley and ocean and 

plain 
Take up the glad song, and repeat the refrain: 
"Here is joy and contentment, and much work 

to do,** 
And I like it first rate — now, honest, don't 

you? 




WHO IS MY FRIEND? 55 

WHO IS MY FRIEND? 

He is my friend, who sees the little good 
That in me is, and grants a motive just; 

And if I falter his the hand that would 

Be reached to life me with a grasp of trust; 
He is my friend. 

He is my friend who knows my faults and yet 
Walks by my side when other friends de- 
part; 
My grivous failures he would fain forget. 
My virtues cherish in his inmost heart; 
He is my friend. 

He is my friend who reckoneth not the cost, 

When on a sea of trouble I am lost; 
Through storm and surf he sees my lifted 
hand. 
And sets my feet upon the shining sand; 
He is my friend. 




56 THE SHERMAN 

THE SHERMAN 

(U. S. transport, engaged in carrying troops 
to the Philippine Islands in the war with 
Spain. ) 

Just out in the stream, 
Where the waters gleam 

In the light of the rising moon, 
A transport rides 
On the ebbing tides, 

And tomorrow she sails at noon. 

She sits like a queen 
In the silvery sheen 

Of the ripples that round her play; 
She tugs and strains 
At her anchor chains. 

Impatient to be away. 

Between her decks, 
Where the water flecks 

Her side with a tremulous ray. 
Sleep a thousand souls. 
Whom the good ship holds. 

Awaiting the coming day. 

They have said good bye. 
With a tear-dimmed eye, 



THE SHERMAN 



57 



And a lingering grasp of hand, 
Till the ides of fate, 
Through the Golden Gate, 

Bring them back to their native land. 

Oh, sweet be their sleep. 
While the billowy deep 

Shall cradle the sons of the free! 
May the stars each night 
Shine with kindly light 

On their voyage across the sea. 

F'or at noon she will ride 
On the great flood tide. 

By the hopes of the nation blest; 
May her skies be blue 
And her course be true, 

As she turns her prow to the west. 




58 EL CANEY 

EL CANEY 

On El Caney, scarred with trenches, 
Troop the pale stars one by one 

O'er a sleeping Spanish soldier, 
By his side his trusty gun. 

Far from native land and kindred, 
Yet the memory backward flies 

To that home beyond the ocean, 
'Neath Hispania's mellow skies. 

In his boyish face are mirrored 

Dreams of mother, sweetheart's charms. 
With a start he hears the bugle. 

And the shout, "To arms! To arms I" 

Hark! From o'er the echoing mountains, 

Waking to the tints of day. 
Comes a roar like muffled thunder, 

'Tis the challenge to the fray. 

Wake, ye slumbering hills and valleys! 

Wake, ye echoes of the sea! 
Ye shall feel the tread of freemen 

In the cause of liberty. 

From the fringe of tangled brushwood, 
Cast in morning's shadow-light, 



EL CANEY 59 

Spring the lines of noble Lawton 
Eager, anxious for the fight. 

Ranks deploy in line of battle, 
"Forward!" is the rallying cry — 

Onward to the flaming block-house, 
On to victory, or die. 

Swept the field with shot and shrapnel. 
Whistling ball and bursting shell; 

Yet the lines of blue press onward 
In a living, roaring hell. 

Men go down like forest giants 

'Neath the cyclone's fury smote, 
That the starry flag of freedom 

On El Caney's heights shall float. 

And the Spaniard who lay sleeping. 

Wrapped in dreamland's mystic charms, 

Shall awake no more to trumpet 
Calling him "To arms! To arms!" 

Gone his comrads of the morning; 

Fared with them the battle ill; 
And the Stars and Stripes are floating 

From the block-house on the hill. 



60 EL CANEY 

Stilled the guns; no more the batteries 
Thunder in the early morn, 

And the soft wind sings a requiem 
Over the fallen soldier's form. 

And the scribes of coming ages 
History's pages shall illume 

With the fadeless deeds of glory — 
* Grave them on the silent tomb 

Of the heroes of El Caney, 

Who their life-blood freely gave, 
That the power of the Spaniard 

This fair isle should not enslave. 





COMMAND 61 



COMMAND 



Be thou no laggard, hand of mine! 

Where there is want to be relieved. 
Thou still mayest spare some corn and wine. 

And love's sweet story be achieved. 

Be strong, be brave, O heart of mine! 

At life's clear fount thy strength renew; 
May every joyous throb of thine 

Be pure and good, be loyal, true. 

Hope thou eternal, soul of mine! 

Though "veil of tears" thy vision bars: 
Hope is the anchor, faith the line 

To holding ground beyond the stars. 




62 YESTERDAY, TODAY, TOMORROW 

YESTERDAY, TODAY, TOMORROW 

The past is gone. Not vain regret 
Can backward call one priceless day; 

Nor can the awakened soul forget 

The shipwrecked hopes along the way. 

Alas that memory w^eaves her chains 
About the failures and the stains. 

Today is all that I can claim. 

This hour, this moment, aye, this now 
Is all I am vouchsafed to name 

As mine. The why, the whence, the how. 
Was ever life's great mystery. 

And sometime I shall find the key. 

I know not what tomorrow hides 

Of good or ill, of joy or grief. 
But this I know, whate're betides 

The sowing shall be crowned with sheaf. 
And every tiny seed of love 

Be garnered in the home above. 




DRIFTING AND BATTLING 63 

DRIFTING AND BATTLING 

I launched my boat upon the sea 
And drifted with the ebbing tide; 

The wind was fair, the course was free. 
But drifting I was not satisfied. 

A storm arose and swept the main. 
Wild billows leapt o'er ocean wide; 

Battling I sought the port to gain. 
And battling was I satisfied. 




64 IN DREAMS 

IN DREAMS 

In dreams I hear the bleating 

Of the sheep, just over there, 
Or the lowing of the cattle 

On the quiet evening air 
As, homeward from the grazing 

They slowly wend their way, 
When twilight shadows lengthen 

And softly fades the day. 

In dreams I see the forest 

When spring its youth renews. 
Or autumn turns its verdure 

To gold and crimson hues; 
In dreams I see its beauty 

All mantled o'er with snow» 
Or tread again its pathways — 

Pathways of long ago. 

In dreams I hear the music 

Of the gently-flowing stream. 
As its waters thread the shadow 

Or in the sunlight gleam; 
In dreams I skim its surface, 

Joyous and sorrow-free. 
When biting cold has locked it 

With winter's icy key. 



IN DREAMS 65 

In dreams I see the homestead. 

Fast falling to decay, 
The vines that clambered o'er it 

Gone, gone this many a day. 
I see the forms and faces 

That greeted me at dawn. 
But I listen for a footfall 

And a voice forever gone. 

In dreams I see my mother — 

The boy's best friend, and true — 
Ere time had dimmed the luster 

Of the sweet soul shining through; 
I live again the springtime 

With shadows overcast, 
And hear a farewell wafted 

From out the voiceless past. 




66 THE CREATION OF MAN 

THE CREATION OF MAN 

Every intelligent man is a marvel to him- 
self. The centuries past have been spent in 
trying to answer the question, "What is 
man?" I really know little of myself, and 
know less of you. — Rev. Warren F. Day, D. 
D., in an address on "The Creation of Man," 
at Pasadena. 

Yon purple hills that pale and glow. 
The ever-restless ebb and flow 
Of tides that beat the arching shore 
And croon sweet music evermore. 
The lily lifting up and up 

On graceful stem its snowy cup» 
The wonders of the stars that keep 
Their faithful vigils while we sleep. 
The world with all its smiles and tears. 
The import of the untried years 
Were printed pages on my shelf 
Did I but comprehend myself. 




A WAYiSIDE FLOWER 67 

A WAYSIDE FLOWER 

A flower there bloomed by the wide highway, 
But none gave heed as they onward rushed, 

it bloomed for a night and a summer day 
Then the grinding wheels it's petals crushed. 

But one there came who lingered there 
Lured by a strange and mystic spell, 

For a wondrous fragrance was in the air 
Like rare perfume from a heather-bell. 

So, as we journey the wide world o'er 
Facing the issues of each new day. 

We may find the dross, or the richest ore. 

In the dust and grime of the world's high- 
way. 

Friendships there be that are born of years 
And are trampled upon by heedless men. 

Though crushed with the weight of bitter 
tears, 
Like the flower's perfume they will rise 

again. 



68 THE SUNSHINE WiA.Y 

THE SUNSHINE WAY 

They say the world is sad and drear; 
A stormy way devoid of cheer; 
For every smile there is a tear 
And more of ill than good. 

Oh! they do teach a gospel wrong 
Who take from life its laugh, its song, 
For joy helps roll the world along 
If we but understand. 

Think you that He who "spoke" the world. 
The planets in their orbits hurl'd. 
The banners of the night unfurl' d, 
Could frame a world of woe? 

Man's soul refuses to be led 
Among the sodden leaves and dead; 
The blooming highways it would tread. 
And in their fragrance grow. 




THE NORTHER 69 

THE NORTHER 

When the first rays of morning illumined the 
west 

And night fled away at the Day King's behest. 

It came through the passes, o'er mountain di- 
vides 

Like an old-fashioned blizzard when Boreas 
rides. 

Quick it mantled the west with a great sable 

shroud. 
Shutting out the warm sun like a storm-driven 

cloud, 
Mounting higher and higher with each rising 

gust, 
Enguilfing the valley 'neath billows of dust. 

Through orchard and hamlet it sped on its way. 
To the farmer and tenderfoot bringing dismay. 
Bent the tall eucalyptus like full ripened grain; 
Smote the orange and lemon — left wreck in 
its train. 

•*• V V v 



70 



THE NORTHER 



When the fast-fading twilight shown red in the 
west, 

And the sun's level rays lit the gray mountain 
crest, 

Peace crept from the shadows, and stole o'er 
the lea, 

And the Storm King was lost in the tempest- 
tossed sea. 




IN HIS REMEMBRANCE 71 

IN HIS REMEMBRANCE 

Oh, sailor on Life's ocean! 
Are you buffeted and tost? 
Do the waves sometimes overwhelm you? 

Is the star of promise lost? 
Oh, remember how the Master 

Spake and stilled the stormy sea; 
And with faith sublime — all conquering, 

From defeat wrought victory. 

Have the storms of many winters 

Woven silver in your hair? 
Oh, remember how 'tis written 

That "Our Father hath a care 
For the lily in the valley. 

And the flocks upon the plain; 
How He crowneth them with blessing 

In the sunshine and the rain." 

He clothes the hills with verdure. 

He paints the autumn hues. 
He bringeth forth the seed time 

And watereth with His dews; 
He notes the falling sparrow. 

Tempers to the lamb the breeze. 
Thou shalt be in His remembrance. 

Art thou not more than these? 



72 FORGET, FORGET IT NOT 

FORGET, FORGET IT NOT 

Does your load unequal seem? Forget it; 

Life is never what you dream, Don't forget it; 
From the king upon the throne 
To the tramp who dies alone. 
All have troubles of their own. 
Don't forget it. 

Has the world been harsh — unkind? Forget it: 
Ten-to-one, its in your mind, Don't forget it; 
Never heed what others do» 
What you are is up to YOU I 
No one else will pull you through. 
Don't forget it. 

Do you know another's fault? Forget it: 
Given wings 'twill never halt. Don't forget it; 
Just a careless word may start 
Shafts that bear a poison dart 
To find lodgement in some heart. 
Don't forget it. 

Are you idling in the NOW? Forget it: 
Harvest follows seed and plow, Don't forget it: 
Nothing care for musty creeds, 
EVERYTHING for loving deeds. 
Better harvest wheat than weeds. 
Don't forget it. 



THE CALL OF THE HILLS 73 

THE CALL OF THE HILLS 

The voices call so loud today 

To God's green hills; and far away 

Where tumbling waters flash and gleam 
I fain would go and, waking, dream — 
But hark! the voices seem to say. 
Why dost thou stay? Tis May, 'tis May. 

Dost know the fields are all aglow? 

The rugged heights — the vales below 
Are garbed in nature's vivid green, 
Starred with the poppies' gorgeous sheen; 

And yet thou comest not. I trow 

Thou dost not know, thou dost not know. 

Dost hear the fir trees' lullaby > 
The hum of wild bees winging high? 
Dost see "The candles of the Lord" 
Aflame on hill and grassy sward? 
Dost hear the nature-voices cry 
Why lingerest thou? Oh why; Oh why! 

Voice of the hills, be still! Be still I 

Thy calling all my senses thrill. 

Fain would I fly and find surcease 
From care; from trouble, sweet release; 

And from thy fountain drink my fill — 

Ah! say no more, I will! 1 will! 



74 THE SONG IN THE HEART 

THE SONG IN THE HEART 

I may toil among the weavers and only hear 

the loom; 
I may walk amidst the gardens and never 

smell their bloom; 
I may dwell upon the mountain and never hear 

the song 
Of the wind among the branches as it croons 

its way along. 

I may front the swelling ocean and never feel 

the throb 
Of its great heart, ever beating, nor hear the 

moan and sob 
Of the wavelets softly lapping upon the sedgy 

dune, 
Nor can I catch the music if the heart is out of 

tune. 

I may dwell among the toilers and hear a glad- 
some song 

TTiat will lighten someone's burden the way of 
life along; 



THE SONG IN THE HEART 75 

I may pluck the sweetest blossoms from the 

fenland and the moor, 
I may hear the voice of angels in the hamlets 

of the poor. 

I may face the hot, gray desert and see in every 

clod. 
And in its weird mirages, the imagery of God. 
I may dwell within the city beside the roaring 

mart. 
And hear the sweetest music, if the song is in 

the heart. 





76 DAYS OF JUNE 

DAYS OF JUNE 

Oh! days of June that steal away my heart 
And make me vassal to thy wanton ways. 

Oh! hills of glory veiled in purple haze 

How dost thou woo me from the world 
apart. 

Oh! rapturous days that hold within thy thrall 
The billowy fields — the bursting bud and 
flower. 

The morn of splendor and the twilight hour. 
And cloudless skies of sapphire over all. 

Oh! halcyon days when youth looks out to sea, 
And clouds and storms are far, so far, away. 
When only Time and distant shores are grey, 
God grant these days for aye to you and me. 




UOVE SUPREME 77 

LOVE SUPREME 

Could I the power of growth discern 

That in the acorn sleeps. 
Or backward to the ocean turn 

The tide that inward creeps, 
Or could I solve the mystery 

Of earth and air and sky. 
Or read the unwrit history 

Of the unlived by and by. 
Or comprehend the human soul 

And know its destiny 
When suns and worlds have ceased to roll 

And time no more shall be, 
*Twere nothing at the Great White Throne 

Where I must stand or fall, 
One little act of love alone 

Outweighs, outshines them all. 




78 IN SUNSHINE AND STORM 

IN SUNSHINE AND STORM 

(Respectfully dedicated to William Penn 
Rogers.) 

Mr. Rogers, an excentric bachelor, came to 
Highland, from N. Y. City, about 1883, and 
for twenty-five years lived in a cabin on 
Highland Avenue. He was a brilliant writer* 
a forceful public speaker. Vindictive and bitter 
in debate, he was a dreaded opponent in lo- 
cal and county politics. He was our friend 
and literary critic, and to him more than any 
one person w^e are indebted for constant en- 
couragement along our stumbling way. He 
died in a neighboring city some years after 
the publication of this little tribute. Partic- 
ularly appropos of his lonely life are the two 
last stanzas. 

Ah happy the life of the jolly old Bach 
When the sky is all sunshine and blue; 

In a cottage with roses and vines for a thatch 
For a wife he would give — not a sou. 

The winds blow as soft at the casement 1 
ween — 
More sweetly the birds could not sing — 



IN SUNSHINE AND STORM 79 

If the vine-covered cot sheltered princess or 
queen, 
Instead of a bachelor king. 

With Shakespeare, and Balzac, and Dumas 
for friends 
Who will quietly lie on the shelf. 
And the "Morning Bazoo*' telling how the 
world trends 
In its onrushing madness for pelf. 

And none to complain if he brings in the dirt 
Or throws his old hat on the floor. 

No sensitive being with feelings to hurt 
If he sighs for the freedom of yore. 

No dresses, no bonets, no ribbons to buy, 

No jewels of silver and gold. 
No ripples of laughter and no one to cry 

In a jolly old bachelor fold. 

No voices of children at play at the door 
To disturb his repose with their noise. 

No carpet but dust on the echoing floor 
Where the bachelor lives with his joys. 



80 IN SUNSHINE AND STORM 

But oh I when the clouds gather dark in the 
west; 
When friendships are broken and dead; 
When riches have flown — only troubles at 
best — 
When illness stands hard by the bed; 

When faltering steps life's winter attest; 

When the rose-hue is gone from above; 
How lonely the life in a cottage unblest 

By the wealth of a woman's true love! 

More than rubies, or diamonds, or scepter or 
throne* 

More than palaces stately and grand, 
Is the sound of a voice to a heart sad and lone 

And the clasp of a strong loving hand. 



THE BABY 81 

THE BABY 

Dedicated to Edwin Blair. 

Who makes a stairway of your toes? 

The baby: 
Who musses all your Sunday clothes? 

The baby: 
Who pulls your hair and twists your nose, 
The while he jumps, and laughs and crows? 

The baby. 

Who thinks of funny things galore? 

The baby: 
Yet never, never is a bore. 

The baby: 
Who, toddling there upon the floor. 
Just makes you love him more and more? 

The baby. 

Whose every absence makes you start? 

The baby: 
Who of yourself is very part? 

The baby: 
Who rules you with despotic art, 
The while he steals away your heart? 

The baby. 



82 AUTUMN 'BACK THAR' AND HERE 

AUTUMN 'BACK THAR' AND HERE 

Oh frosty is the morning. 

Like diamond-dust the sod, 
Across the rolling praire 

Gleams bright the Golden-rod; ; 
Aflame are all the woodlands. 

The smoke is on the fell. 
And swallows homeward flying 

Bid Summer days farewell. 

In these first sweet days of autumn how our 
hearts go back to the old days and scenes 
around which cling the exaggerated dreams of 
youth. Never were there days so fair. Never 
v/ere there skies so blue; never such gorgeous 
coloring; never such heights, such distances; — 
but that was in the long ago. 

Go back with me today to far-away New 
England. It is the middle of October. The 
maple leaves are putting on the richest of 
tints. The fisherman, off shore, keeps half- 
reefed his bellying sail lest a capricious wind 
catch him unawares. The apples have gath- 
ered all the color and fragrance of the too- 
short season, and in the moaning wind the 
husbandman hears the first plaintive note of 
the decadent summer. 

From the Mississippi to the banks of the 



AUTUMN 'BACK THAR' AND HERE 83 

Hudson and from the great lakes to the gulf, 
comes the faint haze of Indian summer. The 
corn is ripening for the harvest, and the pump- 
kins are gleaming yellow between the rows. 

The paw-paws — yellow^ as Tucsan gold, and 
fragrant as apples of Eden — are falling in deep 
beds of crimson and yellow leaves. The 
chestnut burs are beginning to open. Occa- 
sionally a walnut or a hickory nut comes 
tumbling down, and the squirrels are storing 
their winter quarters. 

With every fitful gust the sassafras, sumac 
and oaks are sending down a shower of 
leaves radiant in colors a De Longprey might 
envy. Migratory birds are chirping a fare- 
well to summer haunts, and from high above 
come the notes of wild geese, fleeing in V 
shaped column from the Canada lakes to the 
everglades of the gulf. 

Along the back-bone of the continent, 
where gray mountains rear their summits to 
everlasting snows, the skirmishers of winter 
are already deploying. 

On the great plains — the once "wild and 
wooly west" — the stockmen are rounding up 
their herds from widely scattered ranges, 
guiding them toward the wooded streams 
and sheltered valleys. 



84 AUTUMN 'BACK THAR' AND HERE 

In the far northwest the rainy season has al- 
ready begun. The water-logged denizen 
grows more wed-footed with the years, and 
daily renews his allegiance to the god of rain. 

And what of us in this dreamland of the 
south? Who can tell by aught the senses 
grasp, when summer ends and autumn begins, 
or when it drifts all unknowingly into winter? 
The same birds sing at the door; the same 
roses bloom in the sunshine; the same bright 
colors are everywhere. 

Here is the land of milk and honey; (there 
may be others) the land of the Padres and the 
missions they founded — the civilization they 
planted. Here is a land of great activities and 
accomplishments; a land said by travelers to 
surpass in the developments of its rural life, 
anything to be found elsewhere in America, 
or in Europe. A land where, on this mid- 
autumn day, just to live is joy incomparable. 





TALK SUNSHINE 85 

TALK SUNSHINE 

In the shop or in the home. 

Talk sunshine: 
Whereso'er you chance to roam, 

Talk sunshine: 
Just a cheery word and smile 
Flelps to shorten many a miile. 
So, while here you bide awhile* 

Talk sunshine. 

Gloomy days will come, be sure. 

Talk sunshine: 
You can neither make nor cure. 

Talk sunshine: 
So shall some refracted ray 
Gladden each o'ershadowed day, 
And drive some one's cloud away. 

Talk sunshine. 

When the times are looking blue. 

Talk sunshine: 
Things will quickly change if you 

Talk sunshine: 
If you're up against hard luck. 
Sand the rail and show your pluck — 
Never be a dying duck, 

Talk sunshine. 



86 ALL FOR COLUMBIA 

ALL FOR COLUMBIA 

(July 4, 1909) 

Blow damp ye winds from out the redening 
west, 
And as ye blow^ drink deeply from the sea, 
And pour the draught upon the mountain's 
breast. 
And strew with blossoms all the dust-brown 
lee. 

Blow kindly winds from out the hostile north. 
And as ye blow lull winter into sleep. 

And bind him captive that he come not forth 
His vengance on Columbia to reap. 

Blow glad ye winds from out the sun-kissed 
east, 
And herald forth the coming of the king 
Whose chariot is the cloud, who spreads the 
feast 
Of fruits and flowers in the glad new spring. 

Blow soft ye winds from sea-girt isles of spice» 
Where untaught lovers plight the world old 
vow^. 

And bring, as gift, thy riches beyond price 
To weave a garland for Columbia's brow. 



ALL FOR COLUMBIA 87 

Blow cool ye winds from darkest ocean caves, 
And bring to her the music of the deep. 

The croon and ripple of the laughing waves. 
The crash of breakers in their shoreward 
sweep. 

Blow brave ye winds from every peak and 
crag 
Where proudly flies *'the emblem of the 

free," 
And waft afar the blessings of the flag 

Whose stars were forged in fires of liberty. 

Blow loyal winds from out of the vast domain 
Where sweep the worlds and dwell the 
Powers Sublime; 
Waft, waft, Columbia to a richer gain. 

And guide her through the rocks and shoals 
of time. 

Blow Heavenly winds from out the Eternal 
Trone; 

Columbia thou art loved on land and seal 
The God of nations. Yea, and He alone 

Is leading on, and shapes thy destiny. 



88 THE OLD SWIMMING HOLE 

THE OLD SWIMMING HOLE 

It was hidden *neath the branches of a friendly 

willow tree 
Where the shadows lingered longest when the 

sun had kissed the lea. 
Where the white pond-lilies lifted to the 

breeze a snowy bowl, 
A rendezvous for all the boys was the dear old 

swimming hole. 

When the fields were starred with daises and 
the violets were blue 

On tjiie sunny southern hill sides, and the swal- 
lows northward flew. 

How the longing footsteps wandered, always 
toward a common goal. 

And all the "roads that led to Rome" were 
paths to the swimming hole. 

No matter how the paths diverged, if north, 

or east, or west. 
Somehow they ended at the spot the boys 

loved first and best; 
For as the subtle forces draw the needle to the 

pole, 
So something drew the bare brown feet to the 

dear old swimming hole. 



THE OLD SWIMMING HOLE 89 

Small matter how they faithfull seemed tat 

tasks that Father set, 
When they came home at supper-time their 

heads were always wet: 
And sympathic Mother, dear (Heaven keep in 

peace her soul). 
She thought 'twas sweat of honest toil when 

'twas just the swimming hole. 

And when the swallows homeward flew, and 

autumn winds were cold. 
And sassafras and maple leaves had turned to 

brown and gold, 
'Twas funny how the boys would meet — out 

for a farewell stroll — 
And break the fringe of ice (Wow I Wow!) 

in the dear old swimming hole. 

But the seasons will not tarry, and the years 

will not abide. 
And the boys are burden-bearers somewhere 

on life's flowing tide; 
Yet the fondest recollections as the years they 

onward roll, 
Cling round the gnarled willow, and the dear 

old swimming hole. 



90 THE GLORY OF WINTER 

THE GLORY OF WINTER 

(Under this title Mr. S. E. Kiser, a well- 
known writer of popular verse, contributed the 
following to the Chicago Record-Herald in 
1909. The poem came to the attention of 
Mr. Frazer who replied with the treo of verses 
printed on the opposite page. The Record- 
Herald re-published Mr. Kiser's poem in par- 
allel column with that of Mr. Frazer, with con- 
siderable humorous comment. Of course, Mr. 
Frazers reply w^ould be meaningless without 
the Kiser poem in juxtaposition, hence its ap- 
pearance here.) 

I love to hear the bellow of the blest; 

I love to hear the creaking of the wheels; 
I love to see the snow go drifting past, 

I love to watch the ladies in their "seals; ' 
I love to watch the raging of the storm 

When it's just as icy here as at the pole — 
I love these things when I'm inside and warm, 

And someone else is paying for the coal. 

I love the winter season best of all; 

In summer time I'm often filled with cheer; 
I'm gladdened in the springtime and the fall, 

But winter is the best time of the year; 
I love it when the desolution's wide. 



THE GLORY OF WINTEiR 91 

When the laden clouds above the landscape 
roll— 
If I posses a warm, soft seat inside, 

And someone else is paying for the coal. 

I'm happy when the pipes begin to freeze, 

When dogs stand whining sadly at the 
doors; 
When people turn their collars up and sneeze. 

When the Storm King with unbridled anger 
roars; 
I'm happy when the squirrel and his mate 

Have taken refuge in some gloomy hole — 
If I can sit before a cheerful grate 

And someone else is paying for the coal. 



"THE GLORY OF WINTER" (?) 

(A reply to S. E. Kiser.) 

"I love to hear the bellow of the blast 

When it is eighteen hundred miles away, 
I love to see the sky all over-cast 

Above the gleaming ice of Baffin's Bay. 
I love the storm, the ever-present snow. 

And envy much the weary shut-in soul, 
If I may stay where yellow^ poppies blow 

I'll gladly pay for S. E. Kiser's coal. 



92 "THE GLORY OF WINTER" (?) 

"I love the winter season best of all'* — 

'Tis then I have "the grip" most all the 
time — 
And shivers round my body creep and crawl. 

And joy of freezing truly seems sublime. 
I love the frost that weaves as on a loom 

Fantastic shadows strangely weird and droll; 
If I may stay where red carnations bloom, 

I'll gladly pay for S. E. Kiser's coal. 

"I'm happy when the pipes begin to freeze," 

When plumbers stand around and jaw and 
cuss, 
When snuggled in the bob-sled I can squeeze 

The "only girl," and no one make a fuss. 
I'm happy when the billows crash and boom, 

And storms athwart the Windy city roll, 
If I may stay where roses always bloom, 

I'll gladly pay for S. E. Kiser's coal. 





MY SHIPS AT SEA 93 

MY SHIPS AT SEA 

Over the seas and far away 

My ships went sailing one summer day. 
With sails all set and cordage tight 

They sailed, and sailed and were lost to 
sight. 

And one went east, and one went west. 
By the vagrant summer winds caressed. 

And one went south and one went north. 
In search of treasures I sent them forth. 

I sent them forth with gleaming sails. 
To breast the seas, outride the gales. 

With scarce a thought but all would be 
Borne treasure-laden home to me. 

But waiting — Oh the laggard years! 

Pregnant with hope, beset with fears; 
For no one spoke my ships at sea 

Nor word of comfort brought to me. 

At last, when wind and tide were fair 
There drifted from out the everywhere 

A ship as old as the ages be — 

The ship of fate with news for me. 



94 MY SHIPS AT SEA 

O, the old, old story, oft, oft told! 

Of the ships that sail for the lure of gold; 
The rock, the shoal, the unknown shore, 

And all our gilded dreams are o'er. 

One ship was lost on Delusion reef 
Where many a sail has come to grief, 

Fleeing the wind and the driving rain. 
She was laden deep for my sordid gain. 

One was driving o'er star-lit seas 

With all sails bellying in the breeze; 

In larboard watch a cry of, fire! 

And she was freighted with heart's desire. 

One was sailing a rock-bound shore 

Strewn with the wrecks that had gone be- 
fore. 

And she was lost in the awful stress 

Of the waves on the rock of selfishness. 

And this was all the skipper knew 

Of my ships that sailed under skies of blue; 
But out of the seething, throbbing sea 

One ship sailed on, and on for me. 

Searching each shore and distant isle 

For something that should be worth the 
while, 



MY SHIPS AT SEA 95 

When lure of gold and whelming sea 
Were lost in God's eternity. 

And this staunch ship brought home at last 

The things worth while from my poor past; 
And the TREASURE of three score years and 
ten 
WAS JUST THE GOOD I HAD DONE 
MEN. 




96 OFF GUARD 

OFF GUARD 

(From an old prose fable, author unknown.) 

A camel came unto my humble cot 

And thrust his head within the open door, 

Altho I bade him go he heeded not 

But crowded ever inward more and more. 

For love of home despairingly I fought, 
But nought co(uld I iavail 'gainst brutish 
might ; 

He soon possessed the cottage I had wrought 
And I was thrust into the friendless night. 

•3P V •*• V 

Into my life an evil habit crept, 

O! just a little sin I thought not ill. 

It stole within while I slight vigil kept 
And cast a web about my plastic will. 

Each day the web was strengthened by a 

thread. 

Each day the cruel monster gained control 

Till conscience slept — and then at last was 

dead, 

O GOD I that little sin possessed my soul. 



JUST TODAY 97 

JUST TODAY 

No more the past; its written page 

Is stained with faults and vain regret; 

The while the present I engage, 

And yet, I cannot quite forget. 

Alas, that memory holds so dear 

The failures of the j'^ester year! 

The Now is mine; Oh, priceless day! 
Let met to all the world be true; 
Nor sit and dream the hours away 
V/hile there is time and strength to do. 
The hope one kindly deed begets 
Is worth an ocean of regrets. 

I know not what the morrow hides. 
Perhaps a smile, perchance a sigh; 
But this I know, that naught abides 
Save God, and Heaven, and truth: and I, 
!f I would help the world along. 
Must go TODAY and bear a song. 




98 TOWSER'iS LAMENT 

TOWSER'S LAMENT 

My folks are camping at the coast, 

They like the salt sea-fog; 
And for the next two weeks, almost, 

Vm anybody's dog. 

They-ve gone to hunt for clams and kelp, 
Where such vile stuffs abound. 

And me? Well, I can sit and yelp 
And fatten on the sound. 

Last night I saw the milkman pass; 

He looked at me with scorn; 
I sat me down upon the grass 

Hungry, alone, forlorne. 

Today I heard the butcher's cart 
Down at the neighbor's gate; 

Oh, how the hunger pains did start 
That only food can sate! 

And if my folks would come home quick 

This dog would not demur, 
For everybody likes to kick 
A homeless, hungry cur. 

The future makes my poor heart quail 

As I think this monologue; 
For I'd rather be a tramp in jail 

Than a hungry, homeless dog! 



PATCHING THE HIGHWAYS 99 

PATCHING THE HIGHWAYS 

Tune, Marching Through Georgia 

(Published in 1913, and used as a boster 
song in the good roads campaign of that year. 
Later is was used in the same way by other 
counties in similar campaigns.) 

Listen to our story while we tell you, neigh- 
bors dear. 
How we spend two hundred thousand dol- 
lars every year. 
Hauling sand and gravel and some oil to on 
them smear 
While we are patching the highways. 

Chorus 
Hurrah! hurrah I we'll join the booster 

throng. 
Hurrah! hurrah! we'll sing the booster song, 
Or do most any other thing to help the cause 

along 
While we are boosting for highways. 

Every year we do it just as if we had a mine. 
Every year we scratch the roads and think 

they will be fine. 
All the time we're scolding at *'the Board," 

and Chairman Pine 
While they are patching the highways. 

Chorus 



100 PATCHING THE HIGHWAYS 

O, my friends we* re far behind upon progres- 
sion track; 

We are running in "the low" there's some- 
thing out of whack, 

Other counties pass us by and kick us in the 
back 

While we are patching the highways. 

Chorus 

Don't you know Los Angeles, and San Diego 

too, 
Even Orange County and Ventura by "the 

blue** 

Have us beaten forty miles, and now its up to 
you 

If we shall fail on the highways. 

Chorus 

Let us get together, folks, and stop this argu- 
ment. 

Let us build some better roads of gravel and 
cdment. 

Let us vote the bonds and get "the mon** at 
five percent 

While we are patching the highways. 

Chorus 



THAT WORLD-WIDE PEACE 101 

THAT WORLD-WIDE PEACE 

(Published in Los Angeles Times four days 
before Germany scratched the match that 
'set the slumberous world on fire.") 

A few short years ago 'twas said, 
'The world's at peace and Mars is dead; 
No more shall cruel v/ar's alarms 
Affright our souls with call to arms. 
Our dreadnaughts we will change to yachts. 
Our camps to city breathing-spots. 
Swords will be bent to pruning hooks. 
And spears to useful shepherd's crooks. 
We'll bid farewell to Krupp and Craig 
And fight our battles at The Hague. 
Thus, anyone with wit may see 
All men shall dwell in harmony." 

Boom! Bang! Alas, while good men plan, 
Some traitor with a powder can 
May scratch a match, or cross a wire. 
And set the slumberous world on fire. 

A shot sent crashing through the night, 
A message with the speed of light 



102 THAT WORLD-WIDE PEACE 

Flashing to every town and farm, 

Calling the men to rise and arm. 

A far-flung cry, a bugle call, 

A roil of drums, then, rallying all. 

And money flows, a golden flood. 

For insult must be paid in blood. 

The cry goes forth, "More ships and guns, 

More giving of the nation's sons. 

More broken hearts, more griefs to tell. 

For this is war, and 'war is hell.' " 

Oh! beautiful in theory, 

A peace that binds humanity; 

But this I say, by pen or scroll 

You cannot change the human soul 

Or wash away its selfishness. 

Author of half the world's distress. 

When wrong is banished from the world 

Then battle-flags will all be furled! 




THE BROOK AND THE BOY 103 

THE BROOK AND THE BOY 

A brook burst forth from its mountain head 

And it sang right merrily 
As it tumbled down o'er its mossy bed 

On its way to the old, old sea; 
But the desert lay like a sea unchart 

Twixt the purple hills and the ocean's heart. 
The sun shone down with a withering look. 

And he smote with a withering hand, 
So he beckoned the mists, and the wandering 
brook 

It was lost in the desert sand. 

But hidden deep from the fierce white heat 

It onward crept to the shore 
Where the wandering winds, and the wavelets 
beat 

And the storm-whipped breakers roar; 
And a great ship bides on the restless tides 

And her white sails flash and gleam, 
And down, down neath the hull, as the billow 
she rides. 

Is the LIFT of the desert stream. 

V ^ ^ TP 

A baby lay in his mother's arms. 

And he laughed in his childish glee 
As she softly sang of his baby charms — 



104 THE BROOK AND THE BOY 

(And a thousand she could see) ; 
But the months sped on, with the rolling years. 

And the baby a youth he grew; 
And the dear little mother saw through her 
tears 

He was wearing the soldier's blue. 

Hark, a shot rang out in the morning gloam, 
And it echoed o'er peak and crag! 

And it woke the boy in his far-off home, 
*Twas a shot at his country's flag! 

And the boy went forth at the chieftain's 
call— 
For a loyal heart had he; 

And somewhere in France HE GAVE UP 

HIS ALL. 
As the brook gave its life to the sea. 






JANUARY 1 105 



THE MONTHS 



JANUARY 1 

(Greeting) 



Awake! arise! dawn lights the eastern sky 
And far-flung rays arouse the slumbrous 
west: 
We greet the year with firm resolve, and high, 
To give each day our best — OUR VERY 
Best. 




106 FEBRUARY 

FEBRUARY 

( Achievement ) 

The snow is on the mountain, 

A chill is in the air, 
The tracks of our old enemy 

Are patent everywhere; 
But inside the giant canvas 

That roofs the ORANGE SHOW 
Forgotten are the ugly tracks. 

And far away the snow. 

Before us lies the Southland, 
With warmth and light aglow. 

The same loved California 
That we are wont to know; 

And in ten thousand globules 
The yellow sunshine gleams 

As stored-up gold of summer. 

And flash of romping streams. 

Artists, in truth, have woven 

Into the matchless scene 
A tout ensemble of beauty 

Of orange and gold and green; 
And all the world is bidden 

With loud and clarion call. 
To see this twelfth exhibit — 

THE GREATEST SHOW OF ALL. 



MARCH-APRIL 107 

MARCH 

(The tides) 

O, constant tides that faithful run 

To meet the all-controlling sun! 
What titan force is thine? 

Thy power that might a mountain lift 
May fall into man's lap, a gift. 

At some Marconian shrine. 



APRIL 

(The Rain) 

Wind of the western sea. 
To thy traditions be 

Constant and true; 

So shalt thou bring the rain 

To fruit and field and plain. 
And hope renew. 



108 MAY- JUNE 

MAY 

(Opportunity) 

Month of cheer and cherry bloom 
That shall waft us back afar 

Where we stood with boundless room 
At the gates of life ajai:. 

Room to climb just rung by rung; 

Time to choose which way to go; 
Did we lose ourselves among 

Loitering crowds? Oh, say not so. 



JUNE 
(Petition) 

O that the year was just one long sweet June I 
Wherein content and happiness abide, 

Each morning aging into radiant noon, 
Each mid-day drifting into eventide. 

O, life is sweet and the world is fair 

When the ides of June hold not a care. 

O, that the world had less of bitterness 
And more of faith, and hope and charity! 

More of the spirit of forgetfulness, 
Less of the rancor of adversity; 

O, life would be sweet in a world atune 

To a year that is just one long, sweet June. 



JULY-AUGUST 109 

JULY 

(Patriotism) 

Flag of all flags, where'er on this great day 

Shall fly thy silken folds on land or sea. 
May earnest men renewed allegiance pay 

And praise High Heaven for law and liberty I 
All honor, then, to ihee our flag, we yield; 

To thy traditions v/ill securely hold 
Till age shall dim the stars upon thy field. 

And time shall blanch the crimson of thy 
folds. 



AUGUST 

(Fulfillment) 
Hail! regal one, 'thy garb of green and gold 
Is ever new, though Time and thou art old. 
Springtime and summer thy rich vesture 
weaves, 
And havest fills thy lap with golden sheaves. 



110 SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 

SEPTEMBER 

(Indian Summer) 

Softly the haze of autumn, drifting o'er 
The sear brown stretches of the fields, enfolds 
The Southland; and in enchanting beauty- 
holds 
The hills, the vales and the far-distant shore. 



OCTOBER 

(Nature Voices) 

Softly the light fades on the distant hills; 

Deep-dyed the west with shafts of ruddy 
gold; 
Autumnal evening spreads her wings and stills 

A thousand voices of the copse and fold. 

Dawn wakes the world and lights the glowing 
hills. 
And fires anew the feverish quest for gold; 
OCTOBER speaks through falling leaves, and 
stills 
Us with fond memories of the year grown 
old. 



NOVEMBER-DECEMBER, 111 

NOVEMBER 

(Autumnal) 

All brown and sear the grasses 

Upon the russet plain; 
The wind moans through the passes, 

A harbinger of rain; 
The clouds are drifting, drifting. 

Like sails upon a sea. 
Nature her heart is lifting 

In glad expectancy. 



DECEMBER 31 

(Harvest) 

Time reaps the years and strews the golden 
sheaves 

Along the paths where lie our destines — 
A friend, a flower, a hand to one who grieves, 

A harvest of the year's best memories. 




112 EASTER MORN 

EASTER MORN 

Flail glorious morn! that heralds to the world 

The risen Lord, the tomb, the open door — 
The milk-white banners of the Cross unfurled 
That pledge an open tomb forevermore. 

**0 glorious morn!" the herald angels cry; 
"Whom seek ye here? Chirst lives; He 
reigns on high." 

O love Divine! Beyond all depth or height; 

O Sacrificial Lamb of Calvary! 
Help us to upward climb unto the Light, 
Out of the gloom of our Gethsemane. 

O love supreme, transcending all our ken- 
As Thou dost live, shall we not live again? 

O Faith sublime! that graspes the Eternal 
Throne 
And steadfast holds, nor doubts, nor 

shrinks, nor fears; 
O dauntless hope! that sees the rolled stone. 
And, trusting, onward presses through the 
years. 

**0 glorious morn!" redeemed millions cry, 
"CHRIST LIVES! He rules the world! 
MAN SHALL NOT DIE." 



THE BLUE AND THE GREY 113 

THE BLUE AND THE GREY 

Tramp, tramp, and fainter grows the sound 
each year. 

And shorter is the line adown the street; 
Less of the shouting of the throng I hear 

When grizzled heads and weary halting feet 
Pass in review. O comrades drop a tear 

In memory of these, and pray that we. 
Whose faith they kept, shall not ungrateful be. 

Tramp, tramp, O the proud ranks that march- 
ed away 
With rythmic step, and banners carried 
high! 
What though they knew that shadows cold and 
grey 
Would them enfold. They marched to Do, 
and DIE! 
To barter life for one victorious day — 

Nor faltered when the rain or shot and shell 
Turned billowed fields to furnaces of hell. 

Tramp, tramp, a few swift-flying years at 
most. 



114 THE BLUE AND THE GREY 

Then, taps. One long, reverberating call 
Shall mark the passing of that blue-grey host 
That fololwed Grant and Lee. God rest 
them all 
Whose names on freedom's scroll time has en- 
grossed. 
Here let us lay one fragrant flower today 
Above our fallen heroes, blue and grey. 

As pass the years in grand processional 
To mingle with the dust of yesterdays, 

O, let us kneel at some confessional 

And seek forgiveness for withholden praise I 

In life, in death, they wrote a new decree 
That girt the world with hope of liberty: 

They wrote in blood — Man Shall Be Free! 
BE FREE! 







A PRAYER 115 

A PRAYER 



Sweetheart, may you never know 

Where the bitter waters flow, 
Where the thorny brambles grow. 

May you miss the stone way 

As you work and as you play. 
Climbing upward every day. 

Trials come to young and old; 

May you, as refiner's gold. 
Stand the test one hundred fold. 

Little girl with sunny hair, 

God will keep you in His care; 
This is "Daddie's" humble prayer. 







/: 



1 




' CAROLINE 117 

CAROLINE 

(The only grandbaby of the household. 
She gets everything she wants from her grand- 
mother, MOST everything she wants from her 
Grandfather and bids fair to continue to hold 
a controlling interest in their affections.) 

She slips her little hand in mine 

And rests it there with perfect trust. 

And says, "now we'll go down the line 
To see the things; Oh yes you must!'* 

It matters not that I am tired, 

Or have a million things to do. 
She promptly tells me I am hired. 

And pays me with a kiss, or two. 

She marches me to "gladi row" ' 

Where gorgeous spikes that proudly rise, 

Flame out in colors of the bow 

With which God sometimes spans the skies. 

We count the spikes of varied hue. 
Full-blown, or opening to the light, 

A shell pink, or a red, quite new. 
Queens of a glorious summer night. 



118 CATIOLINE 

Reluctantly we say good bye; 

As I am martialed into line 
We leave the row, gladioli, 

To see the "Thompson's seedless'* vine. 

The "Mission," on resistent root; 

"Niagara," its hard to beat; 
And "Almaria" — see that shoot! 

And "Pierce," its grown at least three feet. 

"Oh Daddy, see the Delaware! 

Its loaded down with lovely grapes; 
The quails and linnets will not care 

If I eat just what few escape." 

Oh yes, the prune; I most forgot; 

It has not done well as it might, 
But this is such a lonesome spot — 

Perhaps its "seein' things at night." 

And that persimmon Howard brought — 
Just see those twigs, how fast they grow, 

I wonder, now, who would have thought — 
"No, Daddy, one more place to go!" 

"Come on! its really worth your while 
To see the zinnias, tall and brave," 



CAROLINE 



119 



And so I go, and softly smile 
That I am such a willing slave. 

And all the time her little hand 
Has nestled in my hand, just so; 

'TOMORROW, if it does not rain." 
My captor says, I'spose I'll go. 




120 THE PACIFIC 

THE PACinC 

I stand beside the western sea 
In awe of its immensity. 

And bare my head in voiceless praise 
To Him who keepeth all my ways. 

I hear the waves that softly beat 
Upon the shingle at my feet; 

I see the milk-white spray that leaps 
From hidden rocks within its deeps; 

I hear the crash, the ceaseless roar 
Of waves upon a rocky shore; 

I see a gull with pinion white 
Cleaving the mists in measured flight; 

A masted ship before the breeze 
Zigzags the highways of the seas; 

A grey, forbidding, armed fort 
Is plowing to some distant port; 

A giant liner puts to sea 
A speck on its immensity; 



THE PACIFIC 121 

And stately ships come proudly home 
Whipping the waves to silvery foam. 

V V V ^ 

And, standing here untrammeled, free, 
1 seek to read the mystery 

That buried in this throbbing sea 
Calls to the world, and calls to me. 

To me — a speck upon the shore 
Whose tides flow on forevermorel 

Oh, mighty sea! thy depths profound 
May utter no translated sound. 

But I may hear in waves and wind, 
*'The sea is servant to mankind." 

Aye! This the wisdom of the age; 
It glows from every nature-page; 

The earth, the air, the sky, the sea. 
And all the powers that in them be. 
Are bondmen All: Man, MAN IS FREE! 



122 A LIFE PETITION 

A LIFE PETITION 

Saviour, keep me through life's morn 
Ere its heat and strife are born; 

If dark dangers round me hide 
Draw me closer to Thy side, 

Let me ever there abide. 

Saviour, O forget me not! 

When the blood of youth is hot; 
When with sin my soul would race 

In a riotous embrace, 
Keep, O, keep me by Thy grace! 

Saviour, lead me when my sun 

To meridian has run; 
When the world's noon-glare and heat 

Ruthlessly upon me beat 
May I every crisis meet. 

Saviour, take my hand in Thyne 
y\s I near the day's decline 

Whence the shadows fall so fast: 
Thou alone forgiveness hast, 

O, forget the faithless past. 



A LIFE PETITION 



123 



Saviour, be my Pilot, Guide; 

When my bark shall outward ride 
On the all-uncharted sea; 

What its tides, and whence its flow. 
Whither bound, I cannot know; 

Thou, art All in All to me. 




^1^- 



